


Run to You

by missameliep



Series: The Pursuit of Happiness [4]
Category: Desire & Decorum (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missameliep/pseuds/missameliep
Summary: Will Prince Hamid successfully claim every one of Lady Elizabeth’s first dances as he promised when they met?
Relationships: Hamid/Main Character (Desire & Decorum)
Series: The Pursuit of Happiness [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683652





	Run to You

**Author's Note:**

> The scenes take place between chapter 6 and 7 from Book 1.  
> Thanks to @princess-geek whose suggestion inspired this story.  
> This is my submission to day 4 of the @choicescocappreciationweek

_“I shall race to you at every party then, to be sure to claim your first dance.”_

The memory of the bold words spoken to the young Lady of Edgewater parts Prince Hamid’s lips, revealing his white teeth in an unabashed grin.

At the fortuitous day of their first encounter, those words earned him an eye-crinkly smile from the lady and, keeping said promise, another one when he actually claimed the first dance at the Bowman’s ball.

Had he followed his heart, his name would have been pencilled on each blank space of her dance card, and he'd bask in her company the entire evening.

Aware of the implications, however, he dared not do that, or impose his presence on the lady like that, especially when a mere second of her attention or one sincere smile are enough to brighten his day. 

Rumour has it the lady will attend the ball hosted by the Viscount of Lochdale this evening as well, and Prince Hamid can hardly contain his excitement with the perspective of meeting her again. 

In the meantime, a spring on his step while enjoying one of his favourite pastimes: exploring the building he is visiting for the first time. The glimpse of the garden through a side door presented the perfect opportunity, which he promptly took, sneaking out of the house to meander besides rosebushes, draping white flowers and moss-covered statues. The perfume of the blossoms reminds him of the lady. Plucking a rose, he imagines her fingers grazing the red petals when she accepts the token of his affection.

Another advantage presented by his current location is the clear view to the street and the main entrance. Lady Elizabeth’s arrival would not go unnoticed, while he contemplates the starry sky and enjoys the night breeze that blows through his dark brown hair and long silk kaftan.

Suddenly, two feminine voices talking louder than propriety commands disturb the silence.

Looking up, searching for the source of the sound, the Prince recognizes Miss Holloway and Miss Bowman, both introduced to him earlier in the Season.

The unmistakable anger in the voice of the Viscount of Lochdale’s youngest daughter prompts him to entertain the idea of leaving, as a gentleman should; however when the name of the lady who makes his heart race reach his ears roared with disdain, his feet do not move. Once more, his curiosity gets the best of him.

Next to a tall bush, bathed in shadows, he remains quiet.

The silhouette of the blonde moves quickly, while she paces on the balcony and words fly from her mouth like wasps, “Lady Elizabeth is ruining my debut!”

“Sooner or later, Mr. Sinclaire shall see her for who she is: a vulgar bastard unworthy of his affections.”

“That woman… She lured him! The way he treated her and dismissed me, it was unnatural!”

“Maybe she’s familiar with witchcraft and casted a spell on him!” Miss Bowman said and clasped one gloved hand over her mouth.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Miss Holloway chided. “The arts and crafts she is familiar with are from an entirely different sort.”

“Is that so? That would be truly scandalous!”

“Scandalous as the time they spent alone on the garden. Unescorted,” the blonde continued, “God knows what she must have done to keep Mr. Sinclaire entertained for so long! Most definitely it was not her non-existent literary knowledge that kept them occupied…”

“Believe me when I say it, you should not worry about Mr. Sinclaire and the country girl,” Miss Bowman said, and the sound of heels clicking stopped. “But you must promise not telling this to anyone else! Promise?”

“Please, just say at once and do not waste my time!”

“I overheard Dowager Countess Dominique telling the Earl that the Duke of Karlington is the ideal match for Lady Elizabeth. Hence, if she marries the Duke, you could marry Mr. Sinclaire by the end of the Season as you intended!”

“Either way I shall be humiliated! If she marries the Duke, she shall be a Duchess, outranking me even further! And without working for none of that! All handed to her on a silver platter! Ugh!”

Hands on his back, the man walks further into the garden, and the red rose lies forgotten on the ground next to the statue and the women’s voices became indistinct murmurs.

This whole exchange caused Prince Hamid’s stomach to sink, partly because of the viciousness of their tongues attacking someone as kind as Lady Elizabeth, and partly by the unexpected revelations.

Essentially, there might be a suitor who already caught the lady’s eye and another one who is favoured by her family. Both proper Englishmen, which the Prince is not.

Sitting on a bench, he looks at the moon.

_Not joining Mr. Konevi at the Almanack this evening might’ve been a mistake… Perhaps I should take my leave…_

Oblivious to the carriage with the Edgewater’s Crest halting at the front and the elegant man and three well-dressed women who disembarked, the Prince’s eyes remain fixed at the sky and his mind is flooded by thoughts about Lady Elizabeth’s suitors.

 _Between them, Mr. Sinclaire would be a far better match_ , he ponders. The lack of a title is greatly compensated by his immense fortune and the ladies constantly whisper about how pleasing to the eye the Englishman is. Would it be surprising if she decides to accept his courtship instead…? 

Instead of his? 

Could he even truly consider the idea of courting the heiress of Edgewater? A foreigner like himself?

The only certainty is this one: he cannot resist her calling.

Being in Lady Elizabeth’s presence brings him happiness, a kind of unprecedented contentment.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

The small hand moves on the large clock, and it chimes when Prince Hamid with his usual poise saunters back inside.

The music from the adjoining room and the sound of shoes tapping on the wooden floor reach his ears and the man realises how long he’s been gone.

A longing gaze at the synchronized steps of the couples, and he wished he had been able to claim Lady Elizabeth’s first dance, just like he did a few days prior.

Re-joining the guests gathered on the large hall, chasing those thoughts away, Prince Hamid’s wide smile curls his lips again, while entertaining a group of acquaintances with a tale from his time at Saint Petersbourg.

From afar, Miss Bowman flashed a timid smile at him and waved, and he acknowledged it with a bow and a polite smile of his own, keeping his composed expression.

Under his attentive gaze, Miss Bowman and Miss Holloway deliberate for a moment and take hesitant steps. He catches a glimpse of the first’s dance card on her hand.

However, before the women gathered the courage to take the last steps to cross the remaining distance to the group, Miss Bowman’s face alighted with recognition and she pulled her friend’s arm and whispered into her ear. Miss Holloway smoothed the skirts of the purple dress and pinched her cheeks. Next, the two rushed past the group and Prince Hamid’s eyes searched for the sight that caused the excitement and found Mr. Sinclaire accompanying to the ballroom a gentlelady he did not recognized at that distance – but considering how tall she was, she could not be Lady Elizabeth.

By chance, his eyes glanced at the other large doors and landed on a familiar person, and his heartbeats accelerated.

Alone, Lady Elizabeth of Edgewater was standing next to the entrance of the ballroom, fidgeting with her closed fan, and peeking inside. Probably on her tiptoes, neck stretched and face swivelling from side to side, she looked over the throng of guests, searching for someone amongst the dancing couples.

At the sight, Prince Hamid couldn’t help but smile. The answers to his previous questions were clear now.

“If you may excuse me,” he bowed and turned on his heels, and the group of gentlemen he was entertaining with his tales vehemently protested.

“Will you not tell us at least what happened to the Tsar?” Baron Standford inquired, perplexed watching him leave.

Throwing caution and reason to the wind, he snaked his way around the guests, bowing to a few acquaintances. 

With every step, the music got louder. The thumping of his heart too.

A few steps behind the woman, he stood quietly.

Trying to discover the object of such interest, his gaze moved around the room, and he watched Mr. Sinclaire and the tall and elegant woman from before dancing the _cotillon_. However, Lady Elizabeth’s eyes were not focused at their direction, and still examined the room.

Stepping closer, but respecting a proper distance, his eyes appreciated the most alluring lady he has ever met. A vision in red and gold. The short puff sleeves revealed the skin of her arms, and he was delighted by the contrast between the vivid red of the dress and her alabaster skin. The chestnut hair pulled up in an intricate bun left her neck uncovered, and he craves to let his fingers run freely through every inch of bare skin. 

He anticipates the sigh drawn from his touch if he ever did so, and the crimson that would tint her cheeks with such audacious gesture. Tugging at his burning earlobe, he smiled to himself and leaned forward. 

Breathing her in, he recognized her perfume - rosewater, the same from their last encounter - and cleared his throat.

The woman’s shoulder tensed immediately with the sharp breath drawn in, but she didn’t turn around to face whoever was behind her.

“May I ask who you are so eagerly searching for, my lady?” he asked with amusement.

The sound of his voice made her turn around so hastily, that she almost bumped her head on his chin.

“Prince Hamid!” she gasped and her green eyes wide open stared at him for a moment, as if she were standing before a ghost. 

Taking a step back, he bowed his head and placed a hand over his chest, apologetically. “I’m sorry to frighten you, my lady. It wasn’t my intention. Forgive me.” 

“You didn’t,” she said softly, looking down.

An evident lie, he knew it; she was just acting like a polite daughter of the gentry should. 

In an instant, she recomposed herself and curtsied, greeting him like a proper lady does to an acquaintance like himself, and he returned the gesture.

“It’s nice to see you this evening, Your Highness,” she said softly. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

The Prince reached for her hand, kissing her knuckles. His lips lingered on the back of her hand. His gaze never tearing from her eyes, which exhibited the same sparkle that mesmerize him, didn’t ignore the flutter of her lashes when she drew in a deep breath.

“Seeing you is always a pleasure, my lady,” he said softly, breathing against her skin, “And only now that I am basking in your presence the evening became truly enjoyable.”

“Flatterer!” she breathed the word and didn’t pull her hand from his.

His thumb caressed the backs of her fingers and gently mapped the valleys and hills of her knuckles. The rush of blood that darkened her cheeks, reddened her neck too, and greatly pleased him.

The fan was held closer to her face, and she fluttered it quickly, complaining about the high temperature and how crowded the soiree was, and her hand slipped from his and reposed over her collarbone. 

“You still haven’t answered my question…”

She eyed him for a moment, before speaking again, “That was an impertinent question, Your Highness. The best we can do is pretend you have not asked me that.”

“I am sorry if I offended you, my lady,” he replied softly, pushing his lucky further, “I was simply going to offer my assistance. In case you were looking for Mr. Sinclaire, for instance, I could tell you where he is…”

“Bold of you to assume to know such a great deal about me,” she replied firmly, keeping an even tone, though her nostrils indicated that his words displeased her.

“I am merely a good observer.”

Looking him square in the eyes, like she does sometimes, she elaborated, “Perhaps not as good as you might think, if you presume I was looking for Mr. Sinclaire.”

For a moment he held her gaze, the green eyes fixed on his with an intensity he’s never seen, and he could almost believe in the impossible.

A second later, her gaze averted his and studied the faces walking past them.

Prince Hamid knew their time together was running out. People could pretend not minding their interaction, but they both know many eyes are upon them.

“May I ask you why such an alluring lady as yourself is standing here instead of dazzling the ton with your graciousness?” asked the Prince, pointing at the dancers.

“Surprisingly dancing with the bastard daughter is not quite popular amongst the gentry as one would expect,” she replied with sarcasm, but he could feel a hint of sadness on her tone.

“I am certain the gentlemen are overwhelmed by your enthralling beauty and afraid to be unworthy of being on your presence.”

The fan was used to cover the unladylike snort that escaped her mouth. Her eyes roamed around, before she spoke again in a lower almost conspiratorial tone, that forced him to lean forward to listen to her words, “As far as Miss Sutton found out on the short time since our arrival, the only gentleman seeking my company this evening was Duke Richards, and I truly wish he wasn’t. If I need to endure another moment of his narcissistic praises, I might just cut my ears off or –”

The chuckle he failed to trap inside his mouth caused her rambling to stop immediately, and her green eyes rounded.

“Oh, my! I apologise for this improper remark, Your Highness! I shouldn’t have – Lady grandmother would scold me for that!” she exclaimed, a hand touching her forehead and partially covering her embarrassment from his stare. “And now you shall think I am utterly impolite just like everyone else does…”

“I would never make such assumption about you,” he corrected with a smile, “And as your friend, I promise not to tell Her Ladyship or anyone else. It shall be our little secret.”

Slowly uncovering her face, a coy smile playing on her lips, she echoed his word, “Friend?”

“I humbly offer you my friendship, my lady,” he said placing a hand on his chest, “hoping it is something that might please you.”

“I shall count myself fortunate to have a world traveller Imperial Prince as a friend,” her reply was soft, barely above a whisper and he grinned.

“Marvellous! Now that we are friends, you might not worry about speaking your mind freely around me,” he confided.

“More than anyone else, you must know one cannot speak their mind freely,” she pointed out, raising one eyebrow at him. “That is possibly the easiest path to war!”

When he was about to offer his opinion on the matter, the lady shrieked, panic rounding her eyes, and she looked down for a moment, murmuring something inaudible.

Before Prince Hamid could understand what was happening, she pressed her back against the wall and fisting the back of his kaftan with both hands, she pulled him in front of her. He mumbled a question about what she was doing, and she shushed him and adjusted his stand, covering her small figure entirely.

“Do not turn around!” she hissed against his back, “And do not in any circumstance let Duke Richards see me!”

When realization dawned on him, Prince Hamid held a laugh, covering it with a fist and straightened himself. Then he watched as said man moved around the crowd, craning his neck, and finally walked towards him – and the woman concealed behind him. Even an optimistic person like himself had trouble believing they would fool the man, who crossed the remaining distance and greeted him as tradition commands.

“Prince Hamid, I believe I saw you conversing with Lady Elizabeth a few moments ago,” Duke Richards slurred, glancing at the ballroom. Even from where he was standing, the man’s words carried a strong smell of brandy and reached the Prince’s nose.

“I’ve been briefly blessed with the opportunity to delight myself in her company.”

“Do you by any chance know where the lady might’ve gone? She is so eager to dance with me, poor girl… And I do not intend to deprive that lovely creature of my presence any longer!”

Prince Hamid pursed his lips and years of training prepared him for this exact moment. With the required seriousness, he replied without bursting into laughter, “If I am not mistaken, Your Grace, I believe she told her lady friend she was going to the retiring room… The lady for certain wishes to present herself impeccably when given the honour of dancing with a gentleman of such dignity as yourself, no?”

The older man exhibited a smug smile, that wrinkled the corners of his mouth and eyes, and puffed his chest out. 

“Undoubtedly. In that case, I should meet her there ending the unsufferable wait for my delightful company.”

Duke Richards bid farewell and marched towards the stairs that led to the second floor.

“He is gone,” Prince Hamid whispered over his shoulder.

“Are you positive?” She fisted his kaftan again and peeked from his side. “I thank you sincerely, Your Highness, and I beg you forgive the rudeness of my behaviour.”

“There is nothing to apologize, my lady. And if I may be so bold to admit it, I could never mind having you this close. On the contrary. However, I doubt you could hide behind me the rest of the evening.”

“I could try… You are disturbingly good at lying.”

Her words drew an unrestrained laugh from him, and he said softly over his shoulder, “Even so, I shall have to move at some point.”

“…I suppose,” she said and cautiously left the hiding spot, and he immediately missed her presence and the small hands on his back.

“Perhaps, I can assist you with a plan,” he said, longing to keep her around as much as possible, “I could sneak you out to the garden. Sneaking away is another talent of mine.” 

“I wish I could…” she sighed. “But I still must be seen and dance with _eligible_ bachelors. Otherwise lady grandmother shall be greatly disappointed on me.”

“Then perhaps you and I should dance. Unless you esteem my company as much as Duke Richards’…”

“How could you even entertain that absurd thought, Your Highness?”

He refrained the proud grin that wanted to part his lips, and simply replied, “I am pleased to hear that. May I have your dance card?”

“I thought you did not want to dance with me… Since you did not claim the first dance… or the ones next to it…” she muttered, and the admission caused her cheeks to acquire a rosy hue.

The sight of this blush wasn’t as pleasing as the others, and he regretted his previous actions saddened her.

“I’d claim all your dances, my lady.” The words left his tongue with confidence and longing, but were met by her silence and a lingering blush.

In an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence, he jested, “But that would be exhausting even for someone like myself.”

Giggling, she looked back at him and he smiled at her, holding her gaze until she lowered it demurely, like a lady should. 

Without looking up at him, the dance card was passed to his hand, and his fingers grazed hers.

Under her gaze, the pencil touched the paper, but he hesitated on signing. He could write his name on the next dance, meaning they would not part right now, or he could pick the one before supper, thus they would reunite later, but he’d get to escort her to the dining room.

 _Would she want me to claim a second dance?_ he pondered, glancing at her, but her expression revealed nothing.

The card was returned to her hand, and his fingers brushed hers, lingering more than necessary.

“We must find you some suitable bachelors to fill the other spots,” he suggested.

“Would you really help me with that?”

“If you wish,” he replied. “For instance, I see Mr. Chambers over there, who I know for is a great dancer.”

“What if I cannot fill all these blank spaces and Duke Richards find me to claim a dance?”

He hummed, contemplating an answer. 

“Perhaps you could very publicly _enact_ a faint spell and blame it on this crowded and suffocating room. Then someone, let’s say a friend, could accompany you home.” He winked at her and she bit her lower lip, and covered her timid smile with the fan.

“I shall take the suggestion under consideration.”

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Filling Lady Elizabeth’s dance card before the next dance started wasn’t such a dire task as she supposed. Passed from a gentleman’s hand to another, soon there were only a few blank spaces left. Standing next to Mr. Marlcaster and two ladies, she waved the card and mouthed a thank you to the Prince, and he discreetly tipped his head and flashed one of his winning smiles.

Willing to be close to her, even if he couldn’t dance with her, he decided to sign his engagement on some ladies’ dance cards as well.

When the music finally stopped. There was the buzz of people leaving the dance floor and new couples arriving, including Mr. Chambers and Lady Elizabeth.

When the first notes of the music resounded on the room, Mr. Chambers danced with Lady Elizabeth, moving with grace.

Prince Hamid, who had chosen to share a dance with a Baroness he is acquainted with, orbited the other couple and joined the same set to dance the quadrille. Effortlessly, he matched his partner’s steps, barely listening to the woman’s words, while his eyes were constantly drawn to his handsome friend holding hands with Mr. Chambers at their side.

Whenever she caught him looking at her, Lady Elizabeth smiled. Warm and unabashed smiles, that reached her eyes. The sight filled his heart with joy.

The moment their hands and eyes met during one of the brief partner’s change, his breath caught in his throat. There was a sparkle in her eyes he longed was reserved exclusively for him.

“I hate the part of the dance when I have to let you go,” he whispered feeling her hand slip from his.

Before parting, she bit her lower lip and purred, “Then, you should find a way to come back to me.”

A second later, her hands were holding Mr. Chambers’ once more, and the Prince almost stumbled on his way to re-join his dance partner. The unusual clumsiness prompted him to smirk, and it didn’t take much effort to regain his composure. But the boldness of her statement would leave a lasting mark on him.

Nothing could please him more than finding his way back to her.

With bated breath he counted the minutes for the music to stop. Soon, he hopes, her smiles would be exclusively for him and because of him. Even if dozens of pairs of eyes would be upon them, he would bask in her presence, reveling on those fleeting moments. Every single one of them presents another opportunity to speak of what his heart is full of, another chance to make the lady feels the same he feels for her.

Lady Elizabeth curtsied to her dance partner, and her eyes searched for the next one, whom he hoped would be her favourite one.

With long strides, Prince Hamid reached her and offered his arm, which she promptly accepted. However, before they could take a single step together, a familiar thunderous voice called them.

The Prince closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, as the man approached the woman. 

A hand grasping hers, the Duke of Karlington requested her dance card.

“Your Grace, as you can see, my dance card is completely engaged,” the lady said politely, “and for the next dance, I have a partner already.”

“I believe Prince Hamid would not mind giving it up, when you clearly would prefer dancing with someone of my station,” he bellowed, drawing the stares of other dancers to their exchange.

“It would be rather –” the lady started speaking, and the Prince acknowledge the irritation on her face and the increasing hum of the spectators around them. Caressing her hand on the crook of his elbow, he interrupted her, “I would not mind at all, Your Grace, if it pleases the lady.”

The Prince’s words startled her, and she was about to speak again when he held her gaze, casting a knowing look, bowed and kissed her hand. 

“Lady Elizabeth, until we meet again. It shall not be soon enough.” He winked and wished she would take his hint.

Frowning, Lady Elizabeth let the Duke place her hand on the crook of his elbow and took a single step before releasing a constrained sob. 

A performance comparable to some of the greatest artists of their time, the lady’s free hand went to her forehead, and closing her eyes she mumbled incomprehensible words about the noise and crowd.

The Duke stared at her in confusion and did not react when her body collapsed, drawing surprised gasps from a few people around.

Anticipating what was coming, Prince Hamid was already by her side and, before she reached the floor, his arms wrapped her protectively. When he pulled her next to his chest, one green eye peeked at him and closed again, and he pursed his lips not to smile at the ruse.

A brief argumentation followed, when Duke Richards claimed his right to care for the lady based on his title. Prince Hamid, on his turn, insisted on taking her home, since it would be ill-mannered of him not offering help, risking deprive the party of such an illustrious guest as the nobleman.

“For God’s sakes,” Mr. Marlcaster muttered under his breath, watching the scene. “I shall take Lady Elizabeth home. Just… please, meet me at the front, Your Highness.”

As if she weighted as much as a feather, the Prince’s arm reached behind her knees and he pulled the lady’s body up, carrying her bride-style.

When they exited the house, he caught a glimpse of her smiling face resting against the crook of his neck, still faking to be unconscious.

In the meantime, Mr. Marlcaster arranged for the carriage to be at the entrance and instructed Miss Sutton to stay with Miss Parsons and wait for the return of the transportation.

Carrying his beloved, Prince Hamid declined the driver’s assistance and carefully stepped into the Edgewater carriage. As if he was handling the finest china, he placed her on the bench.

For a moment, he looked at her lovingly and tucked a loose lock behind her ear.

“You owe me a dance, Lady Elizabeth,” he whispered and watched her lips curl upwards, rounding her rosy cheek.

Grinning, he lingered on the street for a moment watching the horses start moving and soon the carriage turned a corner and disappeared.

“There goes the most mischievous lady in England,” he mutters under his breath, a satisfied smile on his face and the certainty he shall not renounce hope that someday he will hold her in his arms for more than a few minutes. And it will not be part of a ruse.


End file.
